


Monstrous

by ForLoveOfLiberTea



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dystopia, F/M, Genetically Engineered Beings, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-01-23 22:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12517928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForLoveOfLiberTea/pseuds/ForLoveOfLiberTea
Summary: For him, I’ll do anything.Even if I have to trade my life for his.





	1. c a v a e  i g n i s

**[ the 4th day ; month of Av ; year 2304 ]**

**his name is ‘America’.** It is, and has always been that way.

He is ‘America’, and he shall stay that way until he is Unmade. (He withholds a shudder at the thought, thinking himself to be weak enough that he falls prey to the the greatest weakness of humankind—primal, visceral _fear_ —for even the briefest of moments.)

He is ‘America’, called such as he had been taken from the ashes of a country which had once been so strong, so great, so proud, but was now merely called Sector 07 underneath The Federation’s iron rule. The country who once upheld justice and freedom for all, yet was felled by the festering corruption of its figurehead of a government and shattered at its core by its own wailing people.

He is ‘America’, and he is the last of the Knights to be Made. That does not detract from his usefulness—no, on the contrary, he is the most valuable of them all. He is the strongest, the greatest, the crown jewel of the scientists’ genetic tinkering that it has granted him the ability to subdue even the most tenacious of elements.

_« Subject NAC-04: ‘America’, cleared. »_

“Open your eyes, America.” It is a sharp, yet soothing whisper, and he does as he is told.

With the hiss of the wires being extracted from his torso, his eyes flutter open. He gazes at ‘himself’, the form of which is clearly reflected in the blemishless glass set across from where he lies. 

He has been described as tall, lean and muscular. His features have been genetically altered as part of the Knight Programme, thereby granting him with an almost otherworldly beauty. His hair is a silken honey-blond, and his eyelashes are almost the same hue, only darker. There is one feature which strikes him as out of the ordinary, however.

The once clear blue of his eyes are tinted with red-gold, he notices, and he stores that data for perusal later.

It does not bother him, no, and he inclines his head in submission as his handler approaches. _“Ivan”,_ he has heard him be called, yet he knows that that is not his true name. No scientist will allow one of their own to handle their most precious subject—no, “Ivan” is not completely human, either.

He is Subject EAC-01: ‘Russia’, the first of the Knights to be Made, twenty-five years ago.

“You have been given a mission,” Ivan says, and the strange silver hues to his violet eyes glimmer in the bright light. “It is to be accomplished for The Federation, and none other.”

“And so it shall be.” He murmurs, the response having been drilled into his mental database for far longer than he would’ve liked. (But then again, his wants have never been his priority, so why should he start now?)

America looks up, and his hands let go of the rejuvenation pod he has been lying in for the past hour. “What is my mission?”

A smile befitting that of a wolf in sheep’s clothing paints across Ivan’s pale lips, and he bares his teeth. “An order to Unmake a Traitor,” he says.

“A kill order for Subject EC-023: ‘England’.”


	2. s e m p e r  f i d e l i s

** [ the 23rd day ; month of Shevat ; year 2304 ] **

 

**'to be Made is to be given purpose, a justification for one's existence.** To be Unmade is to cease to exist.'

—an excerpt from the Knights' Creed, as writ in the 21st Declaration of the United Federation

_He's not breathing._

The realisation makes her stagger backward, away from the body of her former partner which now lies slumped against the metal railings of the old catwalk. She knows that she has to run, she has to escape, to get away from where she is before _they_ find her, but she cannot find it in herself to move. Her breath catches in her throat, trapped within her airways like a caged bird which uselessly sings for the freedom it longs for but cannot have.

She falls back, watching the blood which seeps from his wounds, painting the rusted metal a vibrant crimson.

"J-Japan..." Her voice is nothing more than a whisper, a stifled plea which leaves her lips. Her dark eyes, tinted with an unnatural blue, are soon blurred with the tears which roll down her porcelain cheeks. "No, no, please, please, _please,_ don't... Don't leave me..."

She collapses to her knees, her lungs heaving with the effort it takes to keep her systems working in their natural order. He's not saying anything and his silver-tinted brown eyes are dull, empty of the life which once burned bright within them. His head is tilted at an unnatural angle, suggesting that whichever Knight hunted him down had broken his neck and—

Silently, swiftly, without even a cry of protest—he was Unmade.

There is nothing which can deny the truth—he is gone, and she is next.

She breathes in, out, slowly but surely rising to her feet. Her tattered suit clings to her skin, barely covering the small, almost unnoticeable curve of her abdomen. She breathes in, carefully placing a hand over the slight bump, feeling the inhuman coldness of her fingertips against her skin. If she imagines it enough, if she thinks hard enough, she can sense the life growing within her, the rhythm of a heartbeat beating alongside her own.

She refuses to cry any longer. She refuses to bow down to the whims of those tamed hunting dogs of The Federation, those which howl and thirst for the blood of the so-named Traitors like her. She refuses to die.

She has to live—not only for her sake, but for her unborn child.

"I'm sorry, my little one," she whispers as she flees, into the darkness, into the unknown. "I'm sorry I was not strong enough to save your father."

Behind her, on the opposite end of the catwalk, a silhouette stands still, calm and quiet—and their pale blue eyes, tinted red-gold, watch as she escapes to the Ruins beyond.

A distinct hum comes from within their earpiece, and they tap twice against its sleek surface.

_« Knight, respond. Mission report? »_

"AC-02: 'Japan', successfully Unmade. However, AC-05: 'Philippines' has escaped to the Ruins. Data suggests that she may attempt to engage with fellow Traitors." Their eyes flash dangerously, and their hand grips the hilt of their weapon. "Permission to commence reconnaissance and elimination, sir."

There is a brief moment of silence.

_« Commence the Unmaking of the Traitor 'Philippines', Knight EC-010: 'Belarus'. »_

She bares her canine-esque teeth in a grin similar to that of her 'brother's own, and she moves onward, ignoring her fallen prey as she walks past.

"And so it shall be."

**Author's Note:**

> « okay, so I probably shouldn’t be starting another fic, but this one is actually extremely short (three parts at most), so it’s easy to finish. it’s my first try at a dystopian universe with this ship, and I’m definitely excited. :D there will be more fics like this in the future, so keep a lookout for them.  
> in any case, I hope you enjoyed reading! »


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